


The Card With No Name

by Onceyourempire



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Major Character Death in later chapters, Monster Hunter AU, Team as Family, as in dont worry abt that rn ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:46:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8690053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onceyourempire/pseuds/Onceyourempire
Summary: The turn of a hand reveals Death, in the upright position, and the Gunslinger frowns.
"You're not going to die." The Soldier says, running a thumb along the folded edge of the card. "New beginnings, kid. Transformation. Change."
"Bullshit." The Alchemist says, and laughs when the Soldier elbows her ribs.
"Superstition." The Archer adds, the hint of a smile around his mouth. He pauses in fletching an arrow to lean forward anyway.
"We deal in superstition and bullshit. " The Soldier turns the last card. A man surrounded by nine cups. "That's all we do. That's all anything is."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this since Halloween bc the brawl finally inspired me enough to make an au. I was going to wait and post it all at once but im listening to DMX and im very tired and i've lost control of my life
> 
> I miss reading tarot. I was never very good at it -- didn't practice enough. I want to pick it up again.

+++

 

The Soldier and the Alchemist arrive first, together. They settle at a table in the corner of the tavern and wait, drinking little and saying less. They have known each other long enough that words are rarely needed. Besides, there is a rumor they heard on the way here that is settling heavy over them both, weighing down their tongues and their moods.

The Gunslinger is next, and he finds them easily enough. He takes the seat next to the Soldier, warily eyeing the Alchemist’s belt of vials. He attempts to strike up conversation once or twice, but drops it when it becomes clear his companions aren’t interested. He tilts his hat down and chews the end of an unlit cigar, keeping his head at a constant turn to watch the room.

The Archer arrives last. He does not sit. He waits for them to notice him at the door, then leaves as they begin to stand. He waits outside, arms crossed and shifting anxiously. There’s goosebumps on his exposed left side. His clothing, though loose and appropriate for his trade, was not made for the cool autumn afternoon. The four of them silently begin the long winding trek towards the castle looming over the otherwise cheerful and friendly town. The King sent messages to all of them, separately, telling them he had a job suited to their particular talents. He insisted on having all four of them, told them where to meet and who the others were.They all find it suspicious, but a job for a king is not one lightly ignored.

The Gunslinger taps a finger on his revolver as they approach the battered and burned front gates, and the Soldier shoots him a glance. He then looks at the Alchemist, who shakes her head. The Soldier moves his hand away from his rifle just as a relieved guard opens the gates. They are ushered inside a wide open hallway, and handed off to someone who appears to be a captain of some kind. The woman is small but sturdy, and briefly introduces herself as Brigitte before telling them to follow her. She cheerfully ignores both the Alchemist’s and the Gunslinger’s questions, choosing instead to ask the four of them how their separate journeys were and where they come from. None of them are particularly inclined to indulge her, but she persists until they relent.

The Archer reveals the least information, saying he comes from Japan, but refusing to speak of how he came to hunt demons or why he wields such an archaic weapon. The Soldier explains that he’s an American, and that hunting the unnatural is what his family has always done -- though he does say he only recently took up the tradition. The Alchemist from Egypt has little to say about both her craft and her profession as a slayer, but mentions that she has only been doing the latter for a bit longer than the Soldier. The Gunslinger does not need to elaborate on where his drawl is from, nor does he truly tell the tale of he got into this life. He deflects questions just as charmingly as Brigitte, spinning vague half truths and quips into something that satisfies her. The Soldier and the Alchemist both look at him with something intangible in their expressions, and the Gunslinger pretends to not notice. Brigitte is about to comment on it but another guard runs up to pull her attention away. She excuses herself politely and gestures down the hall.

“One more left and you’ll be there. His Majesty will be able to tell you more.” She says before darting off with the guard down a side hallway. The four hesitate until the Archer decides to take the lead and strides forward. They turn as instructed and are faced with a door nearly as large as the front gate. The Soldier pounds on it three times and waits. Within moments, the door swings open, and the hunters are momentarily blinded by the afternoon light streaming in from the far windows. As their eyes adjust, they see the massive form of the King standing, facing one of the windows with his back to them. His hands clench together behind his back, and he turns his head halfway. His Royal Majesty Reinhardt Wilhelm, known as Lion of the North, begins to tell his tale.

For the past two nights, the former Royal Scientist had been storming the castle with a barrage of mindless omnic henchmen. Some exploded upon contact with the gate, while others fired missiles of blue flame upon the guards. A man called the Reaper by the locals had been with them, mowing down anyone left standing with his dual shotguns. Months before, offended that the king did not find his experiments to be of value, Dr. Junkenstein had begun to do them in secret deep below the castle. Upon discovering the abominations he’d created, the horrified King had stripped the doctor of his position and cast him out of the castle At the time, Dr. Junkenstein had sworn revenge.

“I thought nothing of it.” The King says, turning his face back towards the window. “I did not think his experiments had gotten anywhere. But I hear now that he has succeeded.” He pauses, fingers clenching again. “He has created a man from the scraps of the dead. The past two nights were to weaken my forces and my home. We will not survive another without you, especially if his monster is as terrible as they say.”

“What if we hadn’t been close? What would you have done?” The Gunslinger asks.

“We would have perished.” The King replies, and he turns to face them. His face is creased with laugh lines, but now they furrow with worry. He looks as though he has not slept for some time. The Alchemist hesitates, then walks forward to put a hand on his arm.

“What would you have us do?” She asks, looking back at her companions. She has already decided to help, and sees that the Gunslinger and the Soldier are with her. The Archer is more reluctant, but when he eventually meets her gaze, it is confident and steady.

“Hold the door.” The King lifts his arm out of her grasp and puts a hand on her shoulder. He towers over her, but she does not flinch. “Tonight is the night he will release his monster, I am certain. They don’t care for the town, just --” His frown deepens, “-- just me. If you can strike them down, it will be over. Your reward will be appropriate for the task, I can assure you.”

“We will help.” The Archer says, to the surprise of the other three hunters. “We will hold your door. When will he come?”

“Just before midnight.” The King replies, and his shoulders relax an inch. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank us until it’s done, your Majesty.” The Soldier says, rubbing his shoulder. “If it’s going to be as bad as you say, then we can’t promise anything.

“That you came is enough, Soldier. That is more than we ever hoped.”

 

+++

 

Half past eleven sees them stationed in front of the gates, nervous but prepared. The Alchemist has found a slight perch next to the gate, and is already kneeling, single eye scanning the courtyard. The other three have decided to stay near her if possible, to make it easier for her to heal them. Both the Gunslinger and the Archer seem uncomfortable with her sciences however, comparing them to the darker magics.

“I could leave you to die, if you prefer.” The Alchemist replies when the Gunslinger in particular expresses his disbelief. “I’m happy to if you’re that wary. The Soldier’s field is of my making as well, if you were hoping to leech off him.” The Gunslinger flushes and tilts his hat down, mumbling an apology. The Archer, on the other hand, refuses to stand down. He is more than happy to argue the differences between witchcraft and alchemy with her as he strings his bow and tests the tension. Apparently, he had a run in with the Witch of the Wild on the way here and that has soured his outlook on anything beyond a needle and bandages. There is a surprising lightness to his arguing though, one that catches her off guard. She finds herself happily responding in kind, teasing and defending her craft when he settles down beside her for a better vantage point.

“Y’all look mighty comfortable up there!” The Gunslinger calls up, spinning his revolver around one finger. “All safe and tucked away out of danger. Folks might even think you don’t want in on the fun.”

“Snipers.” the Soldier says, checking his gun for the 4th time. “They pretend the height helps them see better, but they really just can’t take a hit.”

The Alchemist and the Archer both scoff, and the Alchemist is about to throw a barb right back at her old friend when the first loud clang rings from the other end of the courtyard. The gentle banter ceases and the tension is suddenly thick. The Archer nocks an arrow and the safeties click off on three separate guns. A crow flies overhead.

The doors on the other end of the court yard slam open and an orange glow proceeds a small pack of the omnics described by the King and his guard. They move slowly but steadily, gently drifting apart from each other as they turn towards the bridge. The Gunslinger and the Soldier run close enough to shoot. The fighting begins.

The first few waves are easily picked off, which is disconcerting. The tales told by the guards were harrowing, describing overwhelming floods of omnics. The bombardiers are annoying, sure, but the Archer has been able to take care of them with ease so far. Nothing has even come close to the gates.

“Do you think that was the last of them?” the Alchemist asks, shooting the Soldier and the Gunslinger with her healing darts. She’s spent most of her shots so far weakening the omnics, rarely needing to patch up her allies.

“Something tells me the worst is yet to come.” The Gunslinger replies, and she can almost hear the creak of his glove as he tightens his grip on his revolver.

When the Reaper finally does arrive, it does not come as a surprise to anyone. The Soldier and the Alchemist both find their aims faltering anyway. The Gunslinger shoots well at first, until the Reaper laughs. He freezes suddenly, lost in memory, and it’s up to the Archer to slay the Reaper. It’s with shaky hands that they destroy the rest of the wave of omnics, and when it’s over the Archer bumps his shoulder into the Alchemist's. She shakes her head. Later, they will explain later. The Gunslinger looks at the Soldier with teary eyes and the Soldier simply puts a hand on his shoulder before throwing down his biotic field with more force than necessary.

Junkenstein’s Monster comes next, and soon after the Gunslinger shoots 13 omnics and the monster with just six bullets. An eerie whistle cuts through the air and he seems to glow in the moonlight. The Soldier thinks of the Gunslinger’s complaining of magic and ‘hocus pocus’, and laughs to himself. They’re all unnatural here, and his point is proven when dragons spit from the end of an arrow and swirl into the hoard, causing explosions of circuitry and a roar from the monster. The Soldier rolls his shoulders and feels a prick in his side.

“You’re powered up! Get in there!” the Alchemist calls out, and the Soldier smiles before activating his visor. The monster falls, finally, and they barely resist the urge to crowd around its corpse.

“That’s one big hog.” The Gunslinger mutters, reloading his gun. It does resemble a pig, a horrid snout protruding from its’ vaguely human face. Tubes spiral out and around its’ body, and the good doctor seems to have branded the word ‘terror’ into its’ belly. All in all, the beast is disgusting, but the Soldier can’t help but feel pity. It did not ask for this. It did not ask to be made a monster, to be given a power out of its’ own control. He looks away, and ignores the Alchemist’s stare.

Thankfully there is no chance for her to question him, as the Reaper appears again. He as cursed as they say, not permitted to die until his mistress allows it, yet he laughs as he raises his shotguns again. The Gunslinger does not hesitate this time, and throws a stun grenade before rolling away. He comes up shooting, and doesn’t look away when the Reaper turns towards him. The whistle rings out again and he stares at the Reaper when he shoots the omnics around them. The final shot pierces the Reaper’s heart. The Reaper falls, and the Soldier hopes it’s for the last time. The Gunslinger, feeling sick and shaky, hopes it’s not.

The onslaught does not let up as Reaper’s body slowly melts away. It only ebbs when Junkenstein himself appears on the tower across from the gate, cackling and hurling small bombs at them. The Archer and the Alchemist get the worst of it as the Archer turns his attention to the mad doctor, thus gaining his ire in return. The explosions come hard and fast, and the Archer chokes on the smoke. He looks at the Alchemist, who isn’t doing any better, and hopes she has something for them. He is disgusted with her concoctions, afraid of her knowledge, but she has kept them alive so far. He wants to trust her.

The Alchemist frantically throws a potion at their feet before resuming firing her shots into Junkenstein and the two hunters below them. The Archer breathes in the mist flowing up from the pool of golden liquid at their feet, and adjusts his aim. His arm is burning from the near constant shooting, but he can’t let up. He won’t let up. There are more omnics flooding towards the gates, which by now have taken damage from a few missed bots. If he doesn’t kill Junkenstein, they have no chance. They will die here, and he has so much to do. He has so much to make up for, and he releases an arrow, and Junkenstein falls.

The Reaper rises again, but dispatching him now is easy. It’s calculating, effortless, and not a single shot misses. He dies, truly this time, and the Archer hears more than sees the choked sighs of relief. The Alchemist and the Gunslinger both wipe at their eyes quickly. Collectively, the four of them breathe, in and out. The omnic waves begin to trail off, and the Archer lowers his bow to watch the Soldier and Gunslinger shoot the last few. The clock tower above them strikes midnight in booming tones.

The back of the Archer’s neck tingles, and he looks up to see orange mist collecting across the bridge. He blinks, and remembers the last time he saw that mist. No, he thinks, no, not again, and raises his bow. The Witch of the Wild appears, and raises her hand. Her servants rise with it, back from the dead, and she spins her staff before using her witchcraft to keep them that way.

They almost die there, backs to the splintering door. In what seems like the final moments, the Alchemist kills the Witch with a dart and suddenly the tides turn with the crumpling of her body. The Reaper decides to not stick around, disappearing into black smoke that swarms up and away over the ramparts. The Monster falls without the Witch to heal his wounds. Finally, finally, Junkenstein falls to the cobblestones below with one final shot. None of them can tell who had the killing blow. The crows settled in murders along the walls watch as the omnics collapse without a master to command them.

The Soldier is the first to speak, voice crackling through his damaged mask.

“Let’s go.” He says, hefting his heavy rifle into it’s sling on his back. “The faster the better.”

The doors slam behind them as they hurry through. The Alchemist brings the Archer close with a gentle hand and checks a burn on his shoulder while the Gunslinger pulls the Soldier in to check the external damage on his mask. They speak in quiet tones, moving towards the nearest wall before sitting with their backs against it. Their legs overlap. The Alchemist wraps her hand around the Gunslinger’s arm. The reward can wait.

 

+++

 

The reward does end up being substantial -- almost too much for the task. Not a single one of them complains. Along with the money, the King insists the four stay the night in the castle.

“You saved my home,” he says, ushering them down a long hallway, “the least I can do is let you sleep in it.” Once again, there is no arguing, though the Gunslinger personally thinks he won’t be sleeping much that night. A look at his new allies shows three sets of tense shoulders, and he thinks he might not be alone in his nightmares. The King leads them to a quiet wing with four rooms and bids them a good night. The clock chimes once.

By the time the clock strikes half past one, the Soldier and the Alchemist are sitting on one bed, trying to shuffle the Soldier’s deck of playing cards.

“These cards” the Alchemist says, giving up on her fancy tricks and starting to cut the cards repeatedly, “are as battered as you are, my friend.”

“Those cards, Alchemist, have been at my side longer than you. Buy your own deck if you hate them so much.”

“You’d pout.”

There’s a knock at the door, and the Gunslinger is behind it when they bade him enter. He takes off his boots and settles next to the Alchemist, squinting at the cards.

“Are those supposed to be cards?” He asks, picking one up and flicking a torn edge incredulously. “Soldier, these are yours?”

“You assume they’re mine because they’re shitty?”

The Gunslinger shoots him a smile and raises his eyebrows. “They aren’t?”

“Damn punk. Get off my bed.”

The Alchemist and the Gunslinger both laugh. The Archer stands in the doorway, hesitant for the first time. They all wave him in and he carefully settles on the other side of the Alchemist. He looks once at the deck of cards and then casts the Soldier a judgemental look.

“If I buy a new deck, will the three of you lay off?” The Soldier asks, heaving a sigh and rubbing his temple.

“No,” the Archer replies, to the loud laughter of the Alchemist and the Gunslinger. “I’m sure we can find something else to mock.” He adds, taking the cards and shuffling them cleanly. None of the others know the game he’s dealing for, but he explains just enough to get them going. They bet with knick knacks, pieces picked from their pockets with no value. The Gunslinger bets a shotgun shell, and the Alchemist throws down a Canadian coin with it. They begin to change the rules, to the Archer’s chagrin, and soon the clock tolls 5 times with no clear winner. There’s six aces and the 9 of spades in the middle and the Soldier is arguing that that should be the win condition for the whole game.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The Archer scoffs, picking at the knot in the ribbon holding back his hair. “What if you don’t play with cheaters?”

“It’s not cheating if aces aren’t worth anything.” The Gunslinger insists, throwing the third ace of hearts into the pile.

“We’re always going to be playing with cheaters. We all cheat.” The Soldier says. “ Besides, this deck had extra cards already. It’s not hard to get the 9 or the aces.”

“You assume we’ll play this again.” The Alchemist says, and throws the other 9 of spades down. “Twice spades.” The other three groan and throw their hands into the middle. The Archer finally pulls the knot loose and shakes his head vigorously.

“Wow. No wonder you keep it up.” The Gunslinger comments, wincing while he scoops up the cards to redeal. “You got a real mess there, partner.”

“You never take off your hat. What do you know? Deal me three.”

 

+++

 

They leave the next morning, together. They silently walk the cobblestone streets, plodding their way downhill towards the city gates. They stop briefly in a store for food and supplies, splitting up then unconsciously waiting for each other outside the doors.They have yet to discuss where each is going. They did not talk of staying together. The gates loom tall above them.

The Soldier and the Alchemist leave together. They both worry after where the Reaper has gone, if he’s holding onto the last of his lives in some dark corner of the world. The Soldier holds out hope. The Alchemist is not sure.

The Gunslinger heads west, alone, as he always has. The Archer, afraid of what the east holds for him, turns towards the south.

 

+++


End file.
